


An Eternal Hell

by jackstanifold



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, They're just friends, bad is an undead warrior, callahan is god, i stuck with canon on this one, karl can time travel, none of these tags are real but i don't care, skeppy and bad aren't dating btw, skeppy is a conman and a dumbass, very accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28778520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackstanifold/pseuds/jackstanifold
Summary: Skeppy accidentally summons the ghost of a warrior.
Relationships: Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	An Eternal Hell

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhh i'm very tired and freaking out about bad's new villain arc so. here.

Skeppy thought it would be funny. That was his defence. He thought it’d be funny, and nothing bad would happen, and everything would be okay.

He wasn’t really sure what the plan was, if there even was a plan. He had bought candles, and chalk, and a crystal. He sketched out a pattern on his floor, copying from a book he’d borrowed from the royal library (which he technically shouldn’t have been in, but hey, Dream invited him over for dinner once, to discuss business, and it was right there) and placed the candles at the corners.

He stepped back to admire his handiwork. It was a bit shaky, and he wasn’t sure if he liked how it turned out, but it wasn’t really going to work, probably. Now he just needed one thing.

He gently placed the ruby amulet he’d bought from Quackity in the center. Quackity had sworn up and down that the necklace was from an ancient warrior, and it was worth a lot, and he was risking his neck giving it to Skeppy for only 10 emeralds. He was lying of course, there was no way this piece of junk was worth more than 5, he’d probably fished it out of a gutter somewhere, or stolen it. But it was the closest thing to an antique that Skeppy could afford, so he let it slide.

In all honesty, he wasn’t even sure if he had any right to call Quackity a thief, a scoundrel. Didn’t he do the exact same thing? His pockets were filled with “found treasures”, the little shack he lived in was full of “recycled goods.”

He made his living off of other people. When he wasn't stealing, he was lying, giving people challenges, impossible challenges with incredible awards. He would charge money for them to enter, and when they failed, he’d offer a second chance, with a discount, because that was an incredible run, probably one of the best he’d ever seen. He was a conman, in the end.

He didn’t really have many friends. 

But he liked to think he had honor, unlike Quackity, who… Well, ok. Maybe he just didn’t like Quackity for more reasons than honor, maybe more personal reasons. Oh well, it really didn’t matter much, in the end.

He lit the candles, going around the circle counter clockwise. There was a table nearby with a goblet of wine, and a piece of paper with odd handwriting. He poured out the wine, and then he began to read. 

“Hic adducere mihi ad animam.”

The room seemed to get colder then, and he shivered a bit in the sudden draft that wafted from the slightly open window, but he continued.

“Cecidit, cecidit et mortuus est ortum,”

The chalk seemed to glow, the white against the grey tile looking luminous.

“O somnia exercitus,”

Skeppy almost stopped there. Things were getting a bit too real for his taste, but… 

“Vir bellator est pulsus cordis et iterum,”

What if it was real? What if it worked?

“A corpore simul et ortum,”

The chalk was definitely glowing now.

“De mortis inferno specu sit-”

There was a flash of red, and he dropped the paper, immediately covering his head, ducking a bit to try and protect himself. 

When he lowered his arms, glancing at the circle, his heart completely stopped.

A man stood there, dressed in a full set of netherite armor gleaming with enchantments. His eyes glimmered with power, the sword at his side was clearly made for causing serious damage, his arms rippled with muscles. He gazed around, expression completely stoic, before his eyes fell upon Skeppy.

They stared at each other for a moment before Skeppy slowly picked up the book from off the table and started flipping through it. He reread the page, then looked back up at the man. 

“Holy… I can’t believe that actually worked.”

The man was still staring at him, expression unreadable, as Skeppy started laughing, slowly sinking to the floor, wiping away tears as his entire body shook. He wasn’t sure why it was so funny, but it really really was, for some reason.

Eventually, he got his breath back long enough to stand up. The man was still standing there, looking at him in… disgust? Skeppy wasn’t sure, but it was even funnier. He laughed for a few minutes more before sticking out his hand. “Hey, I’m Skeppy.”

The man stared at his hand, then at him, then he spoke. “Why did you summon me?”

Skeppy shrugged, slipping his hand into his pocket. “I don’t know. Thought it’d be funny.”

The man blinked. “You thought… It’d be funny… to bring back a warrior known for murdering people and going on murderous rampages… back from the dead…?”

“Yeah.” Skeppy shrugged again, rocking back on his heels. “In my defense, I didn’t think it would work.”

“You didn’t think it would work?!” The warrior looked like he’d been slapped. “And you just did it anyways?!”

“I mean, yeah. Didn’t really have anything to lose, y’know?” 

“... I could kill you.”

Skeppy paused at that, thinking it over before nodding. “Yeah, I guess.” He snickered. “I don’t know why you would though.”

The man crossed his arms. “For wasting my time, maybe?”

“Oh, you have other appointments?” The warrior scowled, and Skeppy smirked. “Yeah, I thought not. When’s the last time you got summoned, anyway?”

The warrior sighed, shrugging a bit. “I don’t know. What’s the date?”

“Mmmmm… December 9th? 1692.”

The man blinked. “16...92?”

“Uh, yeah? PSM?”

“PSM?!” The man’s eyes seemed to bulge. “What?!”

Skeppy froze. “Post San Malo? Wait… do you not… wait, when the last time you were summoned?”

“The War of the Serenity Desert?”

Skeppy stood there for a bit, thinking, before his eyes widened. “The War of the… That’s what they used to call the Fallen Kingdom. Oh… Oh, dude, it’s been… like, three thousand years…”

“Yeah, no kidding!? Did I…” The guy glanced back at the circle, at the amulet that still sat in the center. “Did I really get forgotten like that?”

“Hey… This seems like a bad time to ask,” Skeppy hesitated. “But… what’s your name?” 

The man didn’t seem offended or anything, still staring at the circle. “In the old tongue, it was Pitjuispij… but I think that translates to Bad Halo, in your language…”

Skeppy tilted his head. “Your name… Is Bad?”

Bad huffed. “You can call me Pitjuispij, if you think you can pronounce it.”

A pause, then Skeppy nodded. “Bad works. How long are you going to be here, Bad?”

Bad hesitated. “The ritual is usually used right before a battle, and lasts for… a week, maybe. Long enough for the war to be won, I suppose.”

“Oh, weird. So people would just summon you to fight for them? That’s… really convenient? Why’d they stop doing that?”

Bad shrugged. “I guess people had no more need for battle. Or maybe magic died out, I’m not sure… It wasn’t very common in the first place, only truly powerful mages could summon me.”

“What?” Skeppy frowned. “Powerful...mages? I’m… I literally didn’t even believe in magic up until, like, five minutes ago, there’s no way I’m a powerful wizard…”

“Well, you must be.”

“But I’m not! I’m not a wizard, or a mage, or anything, I’m just… I’m Skeppy! I’m Skeppy…”

“You know…” Bad looked at him, eyes almost pitying. “You can be a mage, and be Skeppy. It’s not like you have to use magic, or anything, it’s just an anomaly some people spawn with.”

Skeppy hesitated. “I’m… I’m an anomaly?”

Bad nodded. “Yeah, apparently. It’s not that rare, you know.”

“What?” Skeppy stared at him. “I’m thinking things must’ve changed a bit in the last few thousand years… Anomalies are literally one in a million nowadays…”

Bad tilted his head. “No, I don’t think they are. In all honesty, I think they’re, more common than regular spawns, they just don’t get recognized unless they have really impressive power. One of my old friends, before I… well, before I died. He had the ability to make people happy just by talking to them. He was an anomaly, but he wasn’t an Anomaly. You know?”

Skeppy shook his head, frowning. “You’re fucking crazy, man.”

“Language.”

There was a pause, before Skeppy started laughing. He ended up leaning against Bad, who stared down at him, confused out of his mind. 

Finally Skeppy sucked in a breath and explained through his hysterics. “You’re… you’re an undead warrior, known for being a killer… and you don’t-” he wheezed, squeezing his eyes shut. “-You don’t like cussing!”

Bad crossed his arms, scowling. “No, I don’t, you muffin-head.”

It took Skeppy a long time to calm down from that, coughing occasionally from the mirth that flooded his lungs and came out in the form of phlegm.

Bad just sat on Skeppy’s bed, waiting for him to finish, and when the smaller man finally sat down beside, still chuckling a bit, he sighed. “You should get that cough looked at.”

“Mm, maybe,” Skeppy snorted. “Hey, you’re going to be stuck here for a while, why don’t we do something while we wait.”

Bad raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.

“We could… Go to the market? Or… visit the potion seller, or…”

Bad shrugged. “Market sounds good.”

“Great! Uh…” Skeppy stopped, looking at him. “You… might want to change… People don’t really wear armor when there’s not a war going on…”

“Oh, yeah.” Bad started taking off his armor, fingers deftly tugging at the straps, easily undoing it and slipping off the heavy plates. Underneath, his arms were pale, deathly so, and muscular, an almost comedic contrast to Skeppy’s dark skin and noodle arms. Finally, he stood in a pair of loose trousers, and a black sleeveless top. His dark hair was in an intricate braid that wound around his head, woven with dark grey ribbons and little pearls. 

Skeppy stared at him for a bit longer before shaking himself out of his trance and grinning. “Awesome. Let’s go.”

The market was busy, bustling with activity. People rushed by, chattering, arguing, bartering. Bad seemed tense, but he gazed around with wide eyes. He smiled sometimes, pointing out stalls to Skeppy, or asking him questions, which the other man answered to the best of his knowledge. He didn’t even notice the crowds start thinning out until a familiar voice spoke up.

“Hello, Skeppy.”

Skeppy’s back went rigid and he spun around. “Your majesty! What can… what can I do for you?”

Dream stood in the middle of the street, arms crossed easily over his chest. The few people still in the area were very obviously trying to be inconspicuous, although it didn’t really matter. The king’s attention was on Skeppy, and Skeppy alone.

“One of the books in my library seems to have gone missing, have you heard anything about that?”

Skeppy gulped. “Oh, uh. N-no, I don’t think so. What was it… about?”

Dream tilted his head, his blond braid slipping off his shoulder and swinging behind him. “Resurrection. Dead people. You know, stuff like that.”

Skeppy shrugged. “Uh, can’t say I remember seeing anything like that. Sorry.”

Dream’s eyes glittered in the darkness of his mask, the smile painted on a whole new level of uncanny. “Mmmm. You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Mmmm… Ok,” His head moved a bit, looking past Skeppy now. “Who’s your friend?”

Skeppy’s head snapped around. Bad was still standing there, watching the conversation with a curious expression. “Oh. This is Bad, he’s from… uh… Munchy. Yeah, he’s from Munchy, he’s visiting for a while, staying with me. Y’know.”

Dream hummed, stepping forward a bit to look at Bad closer. “Welcome to the SMP, Bad. How’s the weather back home?”

Bad looked him up and down, expression unreadable, then he bowed. “Thank you, your majesty. It’s about as can be expected.”

Dream nodded in satisfaction, stepping back. “Alright. Have a nice one, gentlemen. Keep an eye out for that book, ok?”

Skeppy nodded quickly, watching the man walk away. “Hooo, brother. Nice save, man.”

Bad was frowning at the retreating royalty, eyes flickering with something. “He was so familiar… Where did I know him from…”

“Bad, don’t be ridiculous. Come on, I want to show you the fountain.”

They wandered around for another hour or so, before grabbing food and sitting by the lake. They were silent for a bit, enjoying the weather, before Bad spoke. 

“I haven’t gotten to do this in a while. Just… Hang out?”

Skeppy hummed. “Yeah, you’ve had a pretty shitty afterlife, huh?”

“Language. I’m half wondering if this is hell, you know? Like, maybe I was a horrible person, and I deserve this. Deserve eternal war, fighting for people who don’t see me as anything but a weapon.”

“Bad?”

“Mmm?”

“You are so much more morbid than I thought.”

“Mmm.”

“How did you die?”

“...The first time, I was 13. There was a raid. Pillagers. They burnt down my town. The second time, I was 17, and it was my first real battle. The last time, I was 23, and I… It was an execution. I was a war prisoner, and a famous one at that. They wanted to make an example of me.”

“Oh. That’s…”

“Yeah.”

“Hey Bad?”

“Yes, Skeppy?”

“...I think your hell is over.”

Bad turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”

“Well, you don’t have to fight anymore,” Skeppy smiled at him. “I’m here now.”

Bad didn’t look relieved, though, just turning back to the water. “No. In one week, I’ll have to go back to that nightmare. Back to the void, only leaving once every thousand years. If that.” There was a pause, and then he spoke again, his voice quiet, his eyes sad. “What if I never get another chance. What if I… What if they forget me, Skeppy?”

There was another pause, then Skeppy asked, “What if I summon you again?”

“You can’t. Only once.”

“Oh. Fuck.”

“Language.”

They were silent after that, thinking, lost in their own thoughts.

“Well… I guess we’re just going to have to make this week the best week of your death.”

It was. They did all sorts of things together. Skeppy found out that Bad hated the number fourteen, he liked cats, he used to have a horse named Roberto, a long, long time ago. Talking about Roberto made him tear up, though, so Skeppy tried to change the subject.

At some point, he took him to meet Quackity, who immediately figured out he didn’t like cursing, and wrote a song for them, abound with cuss words. (And something about Skeppy’s penis? He wasn’t really paying attention, he was too busy trying to drag Bad away.)

The very last day, they were walking through town, when Bad froze. “Skeppy? Do you see that man? In the colorful clothes?”

Skeppy turned, looking around. “Uhhh… Oh, yeah, by the blacksmiths?”

“That’s Karl Jacobs.”

“Yeah? Or… wait, how did you know that?”

Karl was staring at them, his whole body tensed, as if contemplating running away. He glanced at them, then at the shop, then down the road. Bad started walking towards him, and he only looked more terrified.

“Karl?”

“Uh, no, um… I’m… Uhhh… Jimmy?”

Bad blinked at him. “No, you’re Karl.”

Karl gulped audibly. “Uh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m Karl, haha. Do I… know you?”

Skeppy stood beside Bad, looking between the two in confusion. Bad stared at the smaller boy, not looking much more confident. “I… yeah, I think so? I’m… Bad? Pitjuispij? I… I was from Hijhis? You visited my town, I think, during the wars...”

Karl let out a choked noise, shaking his head. “Uh, doesn’t ring a bell. I, uh. I gotta go. Sorry.” He started to walk away, his head low, but Bad grabbed his shoulder.

“No, not until I get my answers! How are you here? How are you still alive? It’s been, what, five thousand years? More? There is literally no way you could be here.”

Karl looked like he was panicking at that point, his face impossible pale, eyes blown wide in terror, his whole body shaking violently, but he managed to speak. “Please… Let me go, I’ll… I’ll explain everything.”

Bad did, staring at him expectantly. 

“U-uh. I’m…” He looked at Skeppy nervously. “Can we… Can we talk somewhere else? Please?”

They did, walking into an alley, leaving Skeppy to wait for them to come back. When they did, Karl looked infinitely more calm, and Bad had a look of wonder on his face. 

“What was that?”

Bad waved him off, walking towards the lake. Skeppy looked at Karl pleadingly, but the taller man just shook his head, and turned away.

Skeppy caught up with Bad a while later, joining him on the bench. They sat there in silence, each waiting for the other man to speak. Finally, Bad broke the silence.

“I was right. It was Karl.” 

“Yeah?”

“He’s… I’m not sure I understand, but he can create windows in time, and step through. Not time travel, he can’t change things, he just… He can view things, sometimes.”

“Huh.”

It was deafeningly silent, until Skeppy spoke. 

“I’m going to miss you.”

Bad moved over, slinging an arm over Skeppy’s shoulder. “I’m going to miss you too, muffin-head.”

Skeppy laughed weakly, leaning his head against Bad’s chest. They sat there for a bit, watching the sun set, until they heard footsteps.

Callahan walked up to them, smiling cordially at them, a piece of paper in his hand. 

Callahan had been one of the several people who Bad had deemed ‘familiar’, but unlike the others, he seemed to recognize Bad, giving him a friendly wave and smile, and addressing him by name, without receiving an introduction. Skeppy had thought it was weird, but he never said anything.

But now… He stood before them, smiling and holding out a piece of paper, and Skeppy spoke up. “Who are you?”

Callahan waited until Bad took the paper, then calmly signed. ‘a friend’ and started to walk away. Neither of them tried to stop them, then Bad gasped. When Skeppy looked at him, he was staring at the paper. 

“Reanimation Ritual,” Skeppy read. “Rean- Oh my god, Bad. This is it! We can… Oh my god!”

Bad smiled at him, but then looked at the horizon and paled. “Skeppy, the sun… We only have a few hours left.”

They rushed home, grabbing the chalk and candles. As Skeppy was sketching out the circle, Bad reread the paper and froze.

“No… Skeppy, we can’t do this.”

“What do you mean? What do we need?”

Bad shook his head. “No, I mean… Skeppy, this is… You’d have to connect your soul to mine.”

Skeppy frowned. “What?”

“Your lives… all three would be directly tied to mine. If I die, you die. If I’m hurt, you’re hurt. I don’t… I don’t want you to have to deal with that.”

Skeppy stood, wiping the chalk off his hands and taking the paper from Bad, squinting at it. “Hm. Well… If it brings you back, I don’t care.”

Bad stared at him. “No, no, I refuse. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Bad. If you don’t want me getting hurt, don’t let yourself get hurt. No more war, no more fighting.”

Bad stared at him. “I don’t… I don’t know how not to fight.”

Skeppy grabbed his hand. “Then let me teach you.”

Bad froze, glancing between him and the circle. “Skeppy…”

“Bad.”

Finally, Bad moved over to the circle, standing in it and staring at Skeppy, eyes wide in concern and fear. Skeppy smiled reassuringly at him, trying to fight down his own anxiety. He lit the candles, slowly, clockwise, this time. 

He held out his hand to Bad, stepping into the circle. They entwined their fingers, looking at each other for a moment. Then, he started to chant. He wasn’t sure where the words came from, but he knew they were right. The circle was glowing now, the light illuminating Bad’s features, and Skeppy almost sobbed when he realised how scared the warrior looked.

Skeppy’s vision was going white. He knew he was still chanting, he heard his voice, but he couldn’t see anything. He felt Bad squeeze his hands, and then everything was gone.

Skeppy woke up to the feeling of arms wrapped around him. His eyes were gummed shut, and his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, but still, he forced himself to open his eyes and look. Bad cradled him like a baby, eyes staring ahead, face blank. To Skeppy’s surprise, he realised he could feel the other man’s heartbeat against his cheek.

“Bad?”

Bad glanced at him, eyes a deep caramel that Skeppy hadn’t noticed before, and smiled sadly. “It worked.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Skeppy sat up, hand moving to rub his hand, but then he froze. “Hey, Bad? What… What happened to my arm?”

Light blue lines snaked up his arms, like vines, doubling back and swirling around, but never overlapping, never crossing itself. It was beautiful, but odd. Unexpected.

“Don’t know. My arms look like that too.” Bad gestured to the red lines on his own arms, moving up his neck, curling over his chest. “It must be from the ceremony...”

Skeppy grinned. “Mmm, yeah, now we’re really connected. We got matching tattoos, baby!”

Bad snorted, flicking his forehead. “Muffin-head.”

“Love you too.”

They got up, cleaning up the candles and chalk, made breakfast, and sat together while they ate, just enjoying the quiet. They were together. They would always be together. No more war, no more loneliness. Just two hearts, beating together.

**Author's Note:**

> pogchamp. :)


End file.
